Broken Pedestal
by Needless Noodles
Summary: After defeating Voldenort Harry thought the war would be over. Too soon after the fact and he seems to be fighting for survival yet again. And just when he thought the dead would stay dead, someone comes back holding the key to defeat the evil for good.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Welcome to Broken Pedestal, the latest re-write of my story, and hopefully the last. Each chapter will consist of two parts. The story is written two chapters in advanced for every chapter until I've reached the end. If I continue at the rate I'm going thus far -- no guarantee that I'll be able to -- then I predict finishing this by the end of the year. Don't hold me to it, but I'll be trying my best.

**Warning!:** This chapter takes place right after the OotP but does include spoilers from HBP and DH. Epilogue of DH does not apply, and certain characters are alive while others are dead. There is some swearing and physical body descriptions of a sexual nature. But most of that takes place in future chapters.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Harry Potter_.

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**Broken Pedestal**

**Words: **5425

**.1.****  
**_o . o . o.0.o . o . o_**  
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He walked away from Narcissa Malfoy intent on heading home before he cursed something to death. Of course, he just might do so anyway. Maybe he just didn't want to go to Azkaban for killing the blonde wench whose name said all you needed to know about her -- despite how much she cared for her son. Either way, Severus Anzori Snape had to get out of there. He'd keep the oath Narcissa had him make; not just because he really didn't have a choice, but for Draco whose life and future were at stake. No matter how much Severus loathed the Malfoys he couldn't let Draco be sacrificed for their mistakes.

After seeing Narcissa and her equally annoying and more than a little demented sister, Bellatrix, out the front door, Snape brought the ward back up around the little house. They weren't much, yet insured he had a fair forewarning. Although, he wasn't there very often; the walls holding too many stories of memories from his childhood that Snape would rather forget. Besides, as was proven by his earlier visitors, anyone in the Wizarding world could find the place. The sooner he left Spinner's End, the better.

Severus made his way back through the small and cramped sitting room to get to the stairs. He bypassed the first door, not even thinking of the fact that it was bigger than the room he claimed as his own. Severus never bothered with that room. He simply kept the door closed and kept the memories of his father locked within it.

Walking into his room he pushed the door shut behind him, ignoring the sound of a book hitting the dusty floor boards as it fell from it's perch on the book case that hung precariously on the back of the door. Severus gathered what little belongings he'd brought with him spun and apparated. Appearing in the alleyway behind one of the shops in Hogsmead, Severus began the long and arduous trek up to the castle, scowling at how the sun burned on his back and at the overly cheerful residents of the little town.

Finally arriving in the Great Hall, Snape found himself suppressing a a relieved sigh at Dumbledore's presence. He was a saved a trip of trying to find the man. They both walked in silence, comfortable and at ease with one another. Even though Severus was in a hurry to leave, he was going to take the opportunity to borrow a book from Dumbledore. Walking with the man to his office was the least he could do in return.

"Severus, wont you have a cup of tea with me?" Dumbledore asked with ever present cheer. Fawkes trilled a bit from behind the older wizard's shoulder as if to greet Snape as well.

Heaving a great sigh in annoyance, Severus held himself from rolling his eyes and turned to face the headmaster. "Not this time, Albus. I'm rather busy at the moment."

"Yes, yes. I did not expect to see you back so soon. I was under the impression that you would be spending time at your home this Summer holiday," Dumbledore remarked as he flicked his wand at one of his many objects and trinkets that still lay in shambles around the circular room. Severus could easily guess what had happened.

Fawkes flew over and perched on Snape's shoulder as the man messaged the bridge of his nose. "And what is it that you want?" He asked of the phoenix. Fawkes let out a trill that seemed to be a laugh. He ruffled his feathers before taking flight and disappearing in a great burst of flames next to Severus' head.

"Why you gaudy chicken. . ." he trailed off with a sneer, unable to do anything about nearly being burnt. "And what is it you're laughing at?" Snape directed at Dumbeldore.

"You know Fawkes likes to tease you when you're not on your best behavior." Dumbledore stated, eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Oh, yes, the bird's a joy," he mumbled scathingly. "As long as he continues to be forthcoming with ingredients I guess it can be tolerated," Severus turned to leave, hand twisting the door knob before he seemed to think about it. "Is there anything else? I really am rather busy. I simply stopped in to pick up a few items," Severus explained as he eyed the bookshelf closest to the door.

"Oh, of course, take whatever you need, my boy. Just remember to return it to it's proper place." The old man then proceeded to pop a lemon drop into his mouth and hum a little tune that Snape immediately hated.

Severus quickly grabbed the book and muttered a 'good-day'. Dumbledore looked as though he wanted to protest but decided to let the younger man be. He smiled knowingly, eyes twinkling all the same, and wrung a promise from Severus to continue with an investigation for the Order and a reminder to fulfill his duty to Poppy (restocking the medical potions for the hospital wing).

"That was easier than expected," Severus murmured to himself as he headed to pick up the quarterly list from Pomfrey. He was glad to know that her summer quarters were on the main floor, down a hidden corridor that he doubted even the Marauders snooped out in their escapades. He came to her door, one among many. The hall use to be the old teacher's quarters that were only mentioned in passing in the _Hogwarts: A History_ and housed many passages that allowed one to get to certain parts of the castle quickly even if they were floors above.

Just as Severus lifted his hand, poised to knock on the plain wood, Pomfrey jerked open the door and came bumbling out. She was laden with bags and even though Seveus had taken a few steps back she still managed to hit him. One of the bags she carried swung back and clopped Severus in the knee. He winced, though showed no other outward sign of pain.

"I would greatly appreciate it if you would watch were you are going next time. I have no desire to be subjected under your tender _mercies_," he drawled, catching Poppy off guard.

"Oh dear, Severus! I had given up on waiting for you. You should have been by yesterday," she admonished with a gentle tap of her hand on his arm.

Denying to reply, Severus simply raised his left eyebrow.

"The list of things I'll need for the ward are inside on the table. Help yourself. I've got to get going. Oh and lock up for me when you go." She quickly bid him farewell and rushed down the corridor as quickly as her legs could carry her.

It took him longer than expected to get to the dungeons. After getting the list from Poppy he was stopped by the Friar and Nearly Headless Nick with complaints about Peeves and the Moaning Myrtal girl who tended to hunt the second floor girls lavatory. Apparently the two pesky ghosts had gotten into a screaming match that ended with the Prefects bathroom and hall flooding with every colour water and bubbles. The Bloody Barron showed up soon after, allowing Severus to escape into the dungeons.

From the way things were going, it looked as though he wouldn't make it home in time enough to get any sleep.

Home. He hadn't been back there but a handful of times since Potter started his first year. In his opinion, not quite enough time away from bubbly, old fools and cranky, fire breathing mistresses; not to mention all of the 'dunderhead' brats, idiotic ministry officials, blood thirsty Death Eaters, bloody werewolves, and mangy mutts. Though, to be honest, his problems from the 'mutt' were no longer in accordance. Unless he counted whatever non-sense, attention seeking scheme Potter came out with next.

The thought of home was why Severus could be seen rushing through the empty, summer warmed halls with his last packed essentials. There had been a few personal items that needed to be kept away from prying eyes. Even with Hogwarts being the acclaimed 'safest place in all of wizarding Britain', there were some items that Snape could not consider safe to leave behind. Especially in the unrestricted presence of Albus Dumbledore.

The old coot couldn't know everything.

* * *

Severus stepped out the fireplace in an abandoned flat somewhere in muggle New York. From there, he apparated to his home outside Seattle, Washington. As soon as Severus disapparated into his bedroom, he quickly emptied his pockets of previously shrunken objects. Thoughtlessly throwing them on the bed -- later finding himself glad for the protection and unbreakable charms he'd placed on the potion vials -- he hurriedly divested himself of his robes and emerged from his room in black slacks and his white button-up shirt.

One would wonder what would make the great potions master carelessly rush from his room. Severus had no care in what he looked like stumping down the stairs, rolling up his shirt sleeves as he went. The muffled sounds that floated up from the family-room at the back of the house was more than enough to make him descend the stairs like a bat out of hell.

Upon entering the room, Severus announced his presence with a dark and menacing, "What is going on here?" He took a moment to look around. It was a normal enough room for a typical muggle/magical family. There were pictures -- all unmoving -- a large screen TV, book shelves built onto the same wall as the entrance way. To the right there was a long sofa sectional that curved around to face the fireplace on the far wall, old wizardly paintings, and enchanted items and nick-knacks. The dark brown coffee table between the lounger and the TV doubled as seating -- four small ottomans could be pulled from under it.

Severus sneered at the design of the room. Everything on the ground floor was muggle friendly and he -- of course -- had no say or input in the decorating of the rooms. But it was alright with him; he wasn't the one who had to live there twenty-four-seven. Though, there was one framed photo that his eyes were drawn to when ever he even passed by the room on the way to the basement through the kitchen. It hung over the fireplace on the far wall. The photo was a larger version of the one he kept in his room wherever he was staying for long periods of time. It was the only photo within public viewing of him with his family. A family he'd been successful in keeping hidden from the Wizarding world thus far.

"Well?" He arched an eyebrow at the group of five teenagers. They always seemed to be the bane of his existence. "I am waiting for your answer," he drawled.

"Um, well," one of the three boys started. "We were just watching a movie."

The other eyebrow joined the first just as the voice of a woman called out "You okay, baby?"

"I can see that, Mister..." He trailed off, clearly asking for the young man's name, ignoring the movie playing in the background.

"Talvin, John Talvin." He sounded like some half backed rendition of a '_James Bond_' film. "I live just down the street."

The boy suddenly stood with one of the other two. Severus thought that perhaps he's seen this young man before. He didn't bother with trying to remember and just focused on intimidating the youngsters.

"I guess we should get going," the second boy announced. "Goodnight, sir." He dragged his two male friends into standing.

Eying him curiously, Severus noted the boy's looks. He was tall, muscular, and black. Unlike the Talvin boy who was of average height, light brown hair, tan skin, and blue eyes. He'd only personally knew a few black men in his life. It was an unimportant thing and something that he'd never really thought about.

"Goodnight?" Severus asked sarcastically. He flipped his wrist over with a dramatic flare to look at his watch. The display read a little after 4 a.m. "I'd say, rather, that it's morning and would be a better one once you remove yourselves from the premises." he watched the boys go pale and then run for the door, their female companion legging behind long enough to smile coyly at Snape. His sneer widened in return.

There was one teen left . She walked casually up to Severus and as she was passing he grabbed her upper arm and harshly turned her to face him. "We will talk later. For now, see to your _guests_," he spat the last word like Malfoy would say mudblood. "I'll be in my lab. Do not disturb me," he watched as the darkly tanned skin girl walked down the hall and disappeared in the foyer.

Before leaving through the kitchen to head to his lab in the basement, Severus took another look at the picture over the fireplace. There, in living colour, was the sole reason he had originally stayed away from home. It was a woman, his wife, whom he kept secret from all the wizarding world. Though English born and raised, she was descendant from powerful Egyptian clans and looked it. She had milky skin the colour of the Sahara dessert for which she was named, thick black hair that fell just past her shoulders, a smile that captured the cruelest of hearts (Severus being prime example), and hazel eyes that would pierce through his soul better than any legilimens or veritaserum.

Her death was just nearly a year old. The festering wound it left on Severus left him breathless at the mere mention of her and seeing the photo pained him. So he let his eyes slide to the younger version of the teenage girl he'd just dismissed. She looked like her mother, even with her long, curly hair that fell to her waist. Severus supposed that had to be from having a mixed heritage. And as much potential the girl had in both academics and magic, he found himself sorely disappointed in her.

There were others in the picture: another young girl with silky black hair, twin boys that looked exactly as Severus had when he was eleven, and another boy younger than the twins that was a perfect mixture of Severus and his wife.

Snape turned away from the room and headed for his lab. He berated himself for forgetting the monthly healing brew for the dratted Werewolf. "If things keep going the way they are, I'll kill those witches," he snarled. There were things in the present and planned to happen in the near future that his mind needed to concentrate on rather than the unchangeable past.

* * *

It was four hours later that found a fully risen sun and a slightly taxed Severus Snape. He was sitting at the rectangular kitchen table reading -- of all things -- a Laurell K. Hamilton novel. There was something about the sadistic tendencies the woman incorporated into her books that intrigued Severus. Perhaps it was how unintelligent the victims in the story always seemed to be, or, rather, how much he could see Anita -- the main character -- as a female counterpart of himself. No matter what it was, it was a great rendition of some of his views on muggles anyway.

Just as he stood to refill his mug of tea a whirlwind of colour raced into the kitchen headed straight for the fridge. Severus watched a couple of paces behind as the short little girl took out a carton of juice, opened it and as she turned around she put it up to her lips. Severus waited as she took a sip before loudly clearing his throat. The girl jumped back into the fridge and spluttered, spraying Severus with juice as she chocked on it.

With a light sneer in his voice Snape responded sarcastically with, "I do so hope that you do this regularly. I love having a morning shower of... orange juice."

Recovering, the girl smiled up at Severus, black onyx eyes meeting black onyx eyes. "Daddy," she went to hug him but stopped with a frown at the shake of his head. Snape pulled out his wand and cleared up the mess, drying them both. She smiled again, feeling the tingle of his magic. "Didn't know you were back yet."

"However so that may be, it still no excuse for your deplorable habits." He filled his tea and retook his seat at the table. "Why don't you go make yourself presentable?"

She nodded even though he couldn't see. "Yes, sir."

"Oh, and, Alice," Snape called out before she could disappear around the door to the kitchen. "Let Eileen know that I am waiting." He saw her wince and heard her stomped up the stairs with great reluctance. She knew Severus only called her sister Eileen when he was angry. After what he walked in on just hours before, he was more than angry.

_'What am I going to do with her__?'_ He thought, running a hand over his face and through his still greasy black, shoulder length locks. _She's out of control._ He was doing all that he could manage, but with Sahaar gone he found his firm hand slipping where Genna was concerned. If it wasn't problems with being named Arrakis Gennevehn-Eileen Prince -- which he couldn't honestly hold equal footing in an argument over -- then Genna was having problems with his authority. Only spending a few months out of the year with them compounded that. If he was sure they both would come out of it scarred, he'd take her in hand and give her the walloping she needed.

He'd been dreading this stage of growth with all of his children. Even with years of experience from teaching adolescents, the only thing he'd learned was just how far his loathing for them could go. Loving his offspring didn't change that one bit.

"Yes?" Severus sat up to find Genna standing in the archway. Her expression was closed and indifferent, but her dark hazel eyes expressed the anger he knew she felt. "Well? What is it?" She demanded stepping further into the room.

Sneering, Snape replied, "Watch the cheek. For someone already in trouble, you're certainly making it worse on yourself."

He took his wand out and with a flick banished his cold toast. Pointing at the chair across from him had it scrapping along the floor. "Sit," he ordered. He waited for her to do as he'd said before continuing. "Care to explain why, exactly, did I find you in the company of three boys in the middle of the night?" Despite the phrasing it wasn't a question; yet she continued to only look at him with a carefully blank expression.

"Have it your way," was all he said before turning his wand on her and whispering, "_Legilimens_." It was no where near as painful as it had been with Potter -- despite what the boy thought, it wasn't Severus' fault for the mind splitting pain, but the connection the child had with the Dark Lord. And the fact that he was more than powerful enough to do the spell wordlessly, he wanted to give her the chance to shield from him.

She failed spectacularly.

A frown came over Snape's face at the glimpse of the memory from just hours before. Genna jumped up out of the chair at the intrusion into her head. "That's not fair!" She yelled. "Why can't you be like other dad's and either be here with us or just go and never come back?"

"Go to your room," Severus seethed automatically. She then proceeded to do as he'd ordered, her breath coming out in angry puffs.

Severus could only watch her leave, just the slightest bit unnerved by her words and the anger he'd felt behind the shields in her mind. He just didn't know what he was going to do with her. Sighing in exasperation, he placed his elbow on the table and rested his head on his fist. It was a blatant disregard for the hard learned manors his uncle use to beat into him. He was even playing with his cooling tea. If Minerva could see him now she'd have one of those fits where she wanted to reprimand him like a child or share a secret smile with Dumbledore. Those two were an odd pair.

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The following weeks passed in a blur. Severus spent time working with potions -- on occasion Alice would join him to watch, or help with ones she'd already learned. Other than Sean -- who took a healthy interest in nearly everything -- and Alice, none of his of his other children expressed such leaning towards his specialized art. Instead, he would take the time to practice dueling with the twins. The time he spent with Genna was the most stressing. If she wasn't blatantly ignoring him, then she was being spiteful and rude; making commentary he'd rather live without. Anything he did to reprimand her only made things worse.

He had hoped they could move past what was bothering her by now. It was nearly time for them to go back to school. Even though he still had a month before Hogwarts started, his time with Genna would be cut even shorter than she was already making it. It also didn't help that Death Eater meetings and Order meetings left him worn and grouchy. Many a time he had managed to keep the children from seeing him on nights when it looked as though he'd stepped out of a brawl. But it did nothing for his disposition.

The situation came to a head the first week of August. They were having dinner late Wednesday night; Severus speaking with the boys about their last duel and Alice tried to talk to Genna.

"Would you just shut the fuck up already?"

Severus looked up with a frown, fork in the middle of picking another round of greens, to see Genna throw down her own fork and push the plate away. Alice was biting her bottom lip, looking as though she were holding herself back from replying. His frown deepened for a moment when he caught a gesture shared between the the three boys. "Arrakis Gennavehn-Eileen Prince," he growled between clenched teeth. "Get up, now! To. Your. Room." He enunciated each word slowly in deep and quiet voice that he normally reserved for the Potter brat. Snape didn't think he'd ever get use to this. Had he been at Hogwarts the child brave -- or stupid -- enough to swear in his presence would be spending a weekend in detention. Although he couldn't give her a _detention,_ he could do the next best thing: grounding.

He held back a wince as the dark wood door nearly slammed closed in his face. Feeling entirely too fed-up with his daughter's _shenanigans_ he flicked his wand, making the door bounce back against the wall. Luckily enough, he hadn't broken it.

He strolled into the room menacingly, Genna prone on the four poster, black wood bed with a emerald greed pillow cuddled under her head. All the furniture in the room was the same as the bed, the walls painted a marbled hazel colour and the hard wood flooring that was throughout the house was covered with a deep golden brown rug. She was ignoring him again, head facing the wall and eyes closed. Snape put his wand away before soundly smacking her backside. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. And as she turned to glare at him, he frowned in displeasure and laid to more smacks on her. _This attitude has to stop now._

"I have put up with more than enough of your disrespectful, and degrading behavior. I'm quite certain your mother raised you better than this." He knew it had been a low blow to bring Sahaar into this, but the girl had to learn. He was her father and nothing was going to change that. "You're to spend tomorrow cleaning up after Marcus and Christopher." He smirked at the sound of her groan. They both knew what messes the twins made. Much like the Weasley twins, Severus' twin sons could be found experimenting with spells that always left the garage in a state of disarray. "After that, you're restricted to your room."

Genna flopped over onto her back, staring at the ceiling and for once holding her tongue. "I wont pretend to understand what is going on in that head of yours," Severus stated from the door. "Though I am always open for an explanation."

As he turned to leave he heard her snort saying, "No you're not." And it was far more truth than he wanted.

* * *

Snape was in his lab the next afternoon when he felt the tingle of a summons from his Dark Mark. The beaker he was holding fell to ground, the glass shattering. He moved quickly to leave, not bothering to inform his children as they were use to his frequent disappearances. He made it back home sometime before dawn and went straight for his bed after taking a healing potion and knocking back a mild dreamless sleep. After the Death Eater meeting he'd gone immediately to Dumbledore, hoping to prevent the inevitable for just a little while longer.

He first informed the Headmaster of his progress on the mission and asked to be removed from it. Dumbledore readily agreed. He then told the older wizard of the unbreakable oath that Narcissa forced him into. Though Dumbledore's twinkle had all but diminished, he expressed his thoughts on believing there was another way around it. Finally, Severus explained to Dumbledore what had happened at the meeting with the Dark Lord.

After he'd arrived at Malfoy Manor Snape was punished for his tardiness before being allowed to take his spot among the other Death Eaters. The rest of the meeting was spent watching as Draco and a few nameless others where initiated and marked. And then, after the lower ranking Death Eaters were told where they would be attacking and had gone, the Inner circle were told of their next plan of attack.

"My loyal followers, I have great news," Voldemort began. "Young Draco here will be riding us of the old fool Dumbledore before the school year ends. Isn't that right, boy?" Severus watched as his godson was tortured even more when he failed to respond. "He'll find a way to get us in and the school shall be ours for the taking."

Severus pulled himself from his thoughts; vision clearing as his eyes opened to bring him back to the present. It was now Friday, sometime before noon. He was home alone -- Genna having been assigned to take her younger siblings shopping for school supplies. He had to make a decision, had to come up with something. He growled in frustration as he ran a hand over his face then though his hair. A semblance of a plan began to present itself to him.

An hour later he was still sitting in his room -- contemplating and debating on rather or not to carry out and enact his newly form plan that very night -- Severus let his eyes travel to the photo on his night stand. It was a muggle photograph of Sahaar. He adverted his eyes thinking, _I'm doing this for them, and for you._ He couldn't let himself think of his children or he'd never go through with it.

His gaze wondered over the simple yet lavish room. No one who 'knew' Snape would have a hard time believing that he lived there from time to time. The walls looked like rust, painted in a creamy brown and gold; the hangings over the large bay windows where a thick velvet of red and black; a four-poster bed made of a dark mahogany had black sheer hangings that went all around sat in the center of the room.

There was very little else, other than a chest at the foot of the bed, a wardrobe between the doors of the closet and master bath, and a rather large, black, leather arm chair to the side of the brick fireplace that was built into the wall across from the windows.

Severus got out of bed, revelling in the feel of the lush black carpet under his toes. He put on his burgundy satin robe and left the room. He still had a few hours before he had to leave.

Coming into the small kitchen, Severus made a pot of tea and some toast and set about weighing the pros and cons of what he begun calling "the decision." A knock at the door interrupted his musing. The wards around the house did not alert him to any possible danger.

'_Must be a muggle_' Severus thought. It was too early on a Friday morning for it to be anyone else. He started to grow rather suspicious. There were not many people who would know of his being there, especially at that time, let alone know that he would be awake. He gave himself three guesses, although he only needed one.

He cast a quick reading spell just to be sure of who it was. Silver smoke formed before him, spelling out:

'Hag'

No weapon

Angry

Sighing in exasperation Severus stood to answer the door. He was unsurprised to see an old woman with her graying black hair pulled tightly in a bun. He scowled at his dead wife's pseudo aunt. She brushed past him, anger rolling of her in nearly tangible waves. He turned to face her after silently counting to ten while closing the door.

"You listen here, young man," she said wagging 'the finger' in his face. Severus repressed the urge to snap at it and settled on looking mildly interested in what she had to say while inwardly plotting her demise. "You will do no such thing, Severus Snape," she continued. "You are unfit -- disappearing for months at a time to god knows where doing only who knows what. You're a dark and evil bastard. I can feel in my bones. You're no good for them. No good," her voice began to rise in her anger. "I don't know why I let you carry on like this. But not this time. You will do no such THING!" She had an odd ability to know when Severus was home and planning something that would involve the kids. Even though, he words held some truth, Severus wasn't about to let her have her way.

Her rant finally over and Severus, already feeling rather unlike himself, let his mask slip. The old woman stepped back from him, the look of malice on his face and uncovered hatred in his eyes scaring her.

"You would do well to remember what I am capable of. I do not have to listen to a damn thing that comes out of your foul, rotting mouth. Nor would I leave anything of mine in your possession," he let his voice drop to a whisper that promised death to any who would dare go against his wishes. "As of today you are no longer their guardian and have no say in what I do with them.

"Now, if you would kindly remove yourself from my presence and home perhaps I'll let you live another hour." He ended with walking away from her shivering form knowing that she would leave the house and not come back for quite some time. It was the way he liked it. Admittedly, he could end with the same results without threatening her life but it wasn't quite as fun.

"You will regret this, Severus Snape. 'Till your dieing day you will regret giving them up," even sufficiently cowed Omoro had her ways of knowing and digging her blackened claws under his skin. Though faced with Snape's deadliest glare and the tip of his wand she continued. "You lose," she enunciated. "And I win."

With that she was gone and Severus found himself frowning over her words.

He spent the rest of the morning locked in the basement -- his makeshift potions laboratory -- with one thing on his mind. He had to give them up. Of course he wouldn't leave them with that vile, old woman, but there was someone who he trusted enough with their care. So he went about the day as normal as possible, even though he knew it would be the last moments he would spend within the one place he could ever call home.

* * *

**A/N:** I know it's not much different than Book of the Dead but the difference will become more apparent in the next chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** This is being posted early.

**Warning!:** Epilogue of DH does not apply, and certain characters are alive while others are dead. There is some swearing and physical body descriptions of a sexual nature. But most of that takes place in future chapters.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Harry Potter_.

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**Broken Pedestal**

**Words: **5046

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**3**  
o . o . o.0.o . o . o  
**_Two Years Later_**

Calcifer was an ugly man. He had vile green eyes and scars that rivaled even Moody's. There was a putrid stench about him that had people automatically give him a wide berth. His skin was pale and pallid, and Severus was sure he had to be one of the inmates of Azkaban prison recently set free. He was Bellatrix's male equivalent and currently assigned to dole out Snape's torture. He'd known it would soon come to this, had reserved himself to it, but had not realized that it would take as long as it had. Dumbledore had been wrong on that count; what help would he be to Potter if he couldn't stay alive long enough to get the necessary information to the boy? None at all.

His tormentor stood over him with his rancid breath misting Snape's already stinging eyes. The man's breath alone would be torture, but Snape had been subjected to a number of dark curses. He'd lost count after Calciber had gotten bored of the _cruciatus_. No matter. Voldemort was soon due to arrive and then everything would end. Hopefully the war along with it.

--oOo--

The sun was just setting, casting golden hues across the sky. Dark clouds were billowing in fast, turning the light a dull brownish color. Leaves flew along the black paved street as the cool autumn breeze blew and the tree branches just loosing their plumes rustled. The street-lights were just turning on. Their light never reaching the end of the lane. The trees were all dead and twisted there in the dark. The sidewalk had begun to crumble with weeds and dirt sprouting up between the cracks. The wind blew again, bringing with it a light fog from the darkness.

"It's time to go, Harry," a light female voice whispered nearly blending in with the breeze.

A cloaked figure stood up from his knelled position over a fresh grave. He looked up when a small delicate hand slipped into his own. He looked into blue eyes and their owner smiled at him gently. Nodding slightly was all he could manage before glancing behind him one last time. Three graves, three names; Severus Snape, Lily Potter, and James Potter. In one way or another he had failed them all.

There was a gentle tug on his arm. "Alright, Luna. We can go now." He was glad that at least one of his friends had stayed with him. He wasn't surprised that it had been Luna, even if he wished that Ginny could have stayed behind. But that was alright. Luna was with him and Ginny had to have her leg seen to. He was okay -- he _would _be okay. Besides, it wasn't like he had consented to start dating her again.

They walked down the path between the graves, through the squeaking gate that blocked out the graveyard from the rest of Godricks Hollow. Leaves, dirt and gravel crunched under their shoes as they continued down the lane to reach his parents' old cottage.

"Thanks," he whispered as they neared the drive to the Potter's cottage. "Just-- thanks," he was stuttering now, trying to keep from rambling and shouting out all of his thoughts. "For everything," he quickly added.

Luna nodded. She understood what he meant. They hadn't had nearly as much contact in the last two years as they'd had in her fourth year and he was just happy that he could still count her as one of his friends. He had precious few left now that the war with Voldemort was over. Luna was one of the lucky ones to have those close to her still alive. And much like anyone who fought in the war she did not come out unchanged. She was mellowed, just a little less quirky and more attentive to her surroundings. Yet she was still the same ol' Lunny Lovegood. She still knew just what to say and when to say it that made Harry feel that less abnormal.

The wind continued to blow, fanning Harry's hair about his face, the strands of hair weren't long enough to bother him, but they tickled along the edges of his brow and ears. Luna's giggle at her own private joke warmed him in the slight autumn chill. He was happy to note that there was still those that could laugh and smile after everything that happened. His eyes then traveled to the weather-worn destroyed cottage of his first year of life as if pulled by magic. As sad as the sight made him -- thoughts of what could have been -- it also angered him. The heat of rage welled inside of him, hotter than the hand Luna had resting within his own.

"Harry--"

It was the gasp and tone of her voice that made Harry react. Her warning call came just in time as he let loose a quick defensive spell, grabbed her close to him with both his arms, and spun, ducking to avoid the sizzling strike of lightening. He dropped to one knee with Luna's head tucked under his chin as the stone rubble and tree limbs came tumbling down around them. That was more than just a freak of nature.

Two words about their attack came to mind as he apparated them both to safety just as it started to rain: Death Eaters.

--oOo--

A tall, lanky ginger haired male with a generous build of muscle paced back and forth before the door to the room he still shared with his best friend. In previous years, pacing like so would stir up dust. Now, the house at Number 12 Grimmauld Place was nearly spotless of dust, dirt, and grime. His best mate, Harry, had spent hours going through every room giving them a once over with cleaning charms. Most of the darker cursed objects had been removed before they left in search of the Horcruexes, the ones left behind proved to be useful. Ginny and Hermione, with the help of Luna and Mrs. Weasley, had bought new drapes, curtains and hangings for the windows and beds while Harry planned the burial of one of the last connections to his mother.

He growled as he passed the door again and there was no sign of Harry's return. Hermione was in the other room still napping after having returned from the ceremony for Snape. It had been hours since then and Harry still hadn't returned. Ron was biting his nails in worry. A recent habit he'd picked up without even knowing. His mother and older brothers -- those that were left -- were all in the kitchen, having dinner. But Ron found that he just couldn't eat.

He was making it past the door yet again on his countless number of trips to and fro when a loud noise at the bottom of the stairs sent his jumping in fright. Heart pounding, Ron paused for just a moment before running out the room and racing down the stairs until he could see over the railing to the hall below.

"Harry!"

Harry winced at the landing he made, all of Luna's weight on top of him. In his rush to escape whatever lay in wait at Godrick's Hallow his aim for the main floor's hallway was significantly off; they'd disappearated a yard above the ground. He looked down the hall as Luna laughingly rolled off him and noticed the kitchen doorway full of Weasleys. "Hi," he replied meekly at Molly's quickly becoming concerned look.

Luna stood, not bothering to dust off her black cloak or smooth down her hair. "Well, wasn't that unexpected?" She held out her hand for Harry and he blushingly accepted.

"Ron," Harry said as a majority of the onlookers from the kitchen retreated back to their dinners. "You'll fall over and be in even worser shape than me if you don't stop leaning like that." He nearly laughed as Ron's surprised concerned look morphed into one of indignant anger.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" The ginger haired male responded, yet continued even amidst the disapproving 'Ron' from several female sources. "Where've you been?"

"I'd like to know as well, Harry James Potter."

Harry turned back towards Mrs. Weasley and Hermione at the younger woman's demand. She never failed to make him feel like a petulant child with that tone of voice. "Er, well--"

"Well, whatever it was, let's eat," Ron interrupted making his way down the rest of the steps. "I'm starved."

"You wouldn't be had you just come down and eat with everyone else." Hermione admonished.

"I was waiting on Harry." He said, ears going a little pink.

Harry looked at him funny as the five of them walked to the kitchen. "You didn't have to wait for me."

"Can't a bloke be worried about his best mate?" Ron mumbled as he took a seat between Hermione and Bill. His ears turned a fierce red at every-one's laughter.

"Sure, Ron. Sure."

--oOo--

Darkness was the first thing he saw. Pain, the only thing he knew. Damp coldness surrounded him, enveloping him, pressing around his limbs and weighing down on his back. He tries opening his eyes -- at first they would not budge. After a few attempts he succeeded, but only to be faced with the same darkness. And the dark was thick and dense -- blocking his ears, clogging them. The silence was so enormous; it was harsher than what he was use to. The situation began to press in on him, causing him to panic.

He wasn't breathing. He'd been conscious for nearly a minute if not more, and yet he had not started voluntarily breathing. The pain in his body swelled and gathered under his sternum. Despite the heaviness of his limbs, the panic drove him to kick and punch -- desperately trying to escape. The tip of his fingers were quick to wear against the unmoving 'wall' as he ripped more than one fingernail.

There wasn't any air. There was nothing wrong with him other than the lethargy, yet breathing was impossible. Panicking wasn't helping and he could feel himself begin to slip back into the dark. It wasn't suppose to happen this way. He wasn't suppose to be under long enough for things to progress like this. Things must have played out quite faster than he had thought at the time. The boy won, that he was sure of. Though it couldn't have been the end, the boy may not have survived since he'd ended as he had. . .

Something fell onto his face. It was wet and had started to slide down his cheek. 'I'm crying,' he thought. Death had never scared him before, not like this at least. Perhaps it was because he could always prepare for the chance of it, or that he was too busy with a mission to think about it. Whatever it was -- _panic_ -- overcoming him now, his body reacted to the spurred emotions and he was helpless to stop it.

He was going to die. Alone; in the dark--

A pressure swelled within and around him. It was unlike the pressure that continued to build with every second he could not take in oxygen. This building of pressure, even though there was no air, warmed him like a breeze. It wrapped around him as he continued to panic. Reaching it's crescendo, the swell of magic surged upwards and out, seeking what it's host desperately needed.

_Air_!

Blessed air. He could breath again. Tears continued to run down his face, he could feel the gentle warmth of the sun -- and despite being even more tired than before, he pulled himself up, collapsed on cool grass and took in lung fulls of oxygen.

He was okay. Things would be okay.

It started to rain allowing him to pretend that the continued tears were just raindrops. His gasps for air subsided into deep panting, his chest rising and falling with every breath. Opening his eyes -- a subtle fear that he would still be surrounded in impenetrable darkness trickled into the back of his thoughts -- and staring up his dark gaze searched for any recognizable landmarks to determine his whereabouts.

Headstones. Rows of headstones and markers -- tombs. He threw his head back, dark locks plastered to his face, and laughed uproariously. He was in a graveyard; they had buried him -- however unknowingly -- alive. He didn't believe this would ever be one to forget.

* * *

**4**  
o . o . o.0.o . o . o

A deep sigh escaped him. Of all the places to expect him to quietly stay, of all the people to assign him to, it of course had to be _Potter _and his merry friends. The thought left a nasty taste in the back of his throat. Who knew how long the ministry would have him imprisoned with Potter and the Weaslett shacking up, well on their way to producing more red-headed, green eyed Griffindor spawns. Despite what they'd shared in the war, their school rivalry was infamous and he was sure they'd be at each others throats in no time. And he was at a disadvantage without a wand. For a moment he almost hatted Potter even more for saving his life. This was more than cruel and unusual punishment. It would be worse than the torture he'd endured under Ministry _questioning_.

He let go of the portkey, taking a small step back away from Shaklebolt and some Auror who's name he couldn't be bother to remember. It was worse than he'd imagined. It wasn't just Potter and the little _woman_, it was to be the entire family and then some.

He'd been running and fighting for his life ever since his sixth year in Hogwarts. He was relieved to back back even though he was in Ministry custody awaiting his trial. Even without the dementors, he found himself nearly considering begging for a stint in Azkaban than to be forced to endure _this. It has to be better than this. . . alternative_, he thought, stoically watching Shaklebolt shake one of the older Weasley's hand, endure Molly's coddling and slap Potter on the back in a show of _commodore(?)_.

"_Malfoy_."

It was one word, uttered with such disgust and loathing that had the no-named auror smirking at Draco as if Christmas had come early. Draco didn't dignify Weasley with an answer. Instead he had eyes only for Potter, gauging the reaction of his childhood _nemesis_.

"Forgive me for such short notice, Harry," Shaklebolt began not in the least apologetic. "The cells are over crowded and with everything that's going on we don't have the man power to keep watch on him anywhere else. I can't permit him to return to the Molfoy estates; I thought it best he stay here until his trial."

Potter waved him off. "I already agreed, didn't I, Kingsley?" Draco knew it wasn't just the 'Boy-Who-Lived' status that allowed Potter to speak with such familiarity before the Minister of Magic. It was any-one's guess that having gone trough the war, fighting together, allowed for such informality when not in public. He would bet his shackles that Potter was even too inept to be formal in the public, let alone before prisoners of war. "The attic's ready. You're going to have to do the warding, though. I'm pants at it."

Shacklebolt laughed. _The attic_. They were sequestering him to the attic of all places. Though he figured it must have been some courtesy on his behalf since it wasn't the dungeons. It figured in a house full of Gryffindors -- more than likely wouldn't have one anyway. _Towers and spires for that lot_.

"No problem, Harry. We'll just take him on up now." They departed with smiles, some of them forced, due to his presence he was sure. As they left what appeared to be the kitchen he could hear Potter being questioned as to _Malfoy's_ presence there. Draco didn't stop the smug look at the fact that Potter hadn't even informed his so called family of his coming.

He was herded through the house with sharp prods in his back from the no-name auror's wand that sent low level shocks through his muscles as the darkly skinned Minister lead them up stairs. It was obvious he knew his way around and Draco was left pondering the significance of that.

* * *

**_Two years previous_**

He was finding it hard to breathe, hard to catch his breath long enough to keep his muscles from screaming in protest as he ran. Severus was waiting for him; Severus would protect him where his parents where failing to do so. Severus was the way out of this horrid mistake he'd made. They'd been running for days. Apparating and disapparating through several different cities, only stopping for the menial of tasks. They had time after reporting in, after the events in the tower back at Hogwarts, before the Dark Lord would summon another meeting.

They finally came to stop in the open, hill strewn land of Tuscany. Even though they were far from where they'd originally started and had quickly passed through a dozen or more cities along the way — all in order to throw any who would follow off their trail — even going as far as doubling back and then taking muggle transportation to the next city, Draco didn't think he would ever feel safe again.

But he could rest now. They were hiding out in a small, yet open and spacious, ancient Roman Villa. It was magically preserved and located on about a dozen acres of unpalatable land. The view of the small farming villa was beautiful with small mountains -- or hills -- rising up just beyond the back borders of the unpalatable spell. There was even a lake by a river running through the hills.

Both were too tired to take any of it in, so instead quickly made their way up the drive and into the back door.

Severus stumbled and nearly fell over at the sudden weight on his back. Draco had finally passed out, succumbing to the lack of sleep and the injuries incurred before their _escape_. He sighed, feeling the exhaustion starting to catch up with him as well. Pulling out his wand and a muttered spell later had Draco floating before Severus as he made his way from the ground floor to the first level. It was taking longer than he'd like, but he finally placed Draco into a fairly clean room and went in search of one for himself.

--oOo--

Hours later Draco awoke, the flash of green light from the _Avada Kedavra_ behind his eye lids reminding him of the aches and pains in both his body and mind. The scream died on his lips before it could escape and he dropped his head back on the pillow. The air in the room was stale and musty and he was thankful to whomever at least thought the use fresh linen on the bed.

He ran a weary hand over his face, wishing it were that easy to scrub away the past. At least he wasn't marked; not yet. And it continued to amaze him, though he wouldn't dare mention it, that Severus was able to take Draco with him. He was grateful not having to stay at the manor, not having to constantly be in the presence of both his _father_ and the Dark Lord. It was a reprieve from the reality of a war consumed world and he would enjoy it to the fullest.

The floor was a light coloured stone. It looked like limestone from the way the sunlight glistened off of it, though he couldn't be sure. There was a rug under the bed that covered most of the stone floor. It looked old, frayed and more than a little scratchy. He dreaded putting his bare feet on the thing. The thought gave him pause. Swinging his legs from under the covers and blankets to fall over the side of the bed he gave himself a once-over -- he was wearing soft black sleeping pants and a plain dark green t-shirt. Thinking back to what he last remembered he knew he hadn't taken his boots off. In fact, he couldn't remember undressing at all let alone crawling into the bed. His chest gave a strange jolt and a weird pain spread down to his stomach; _Severus_.

He refused to entertain the thought like an attention starved child and shook his head to clear it. He slid out of the bed and walked around it to the door, pausing long enough to slip on a pair of slippers and a dark green robe before he opened the door.

He stepped out onto a balcony that over looked a glass covered court yard. There were half a dozen chains hanging from certain panes of the glass that when pulled either opened or closed the windows, allowing fresh air in. Draco was use to extravagance, having lived his life in Malfoy Manor, but this was beyond the wealth he was accustomed to. He didn't know his Potions Professor had the money to afford such a place.

He almost felt as though he'd stepped through time.

There were arches equally spaced out on both levels of the villa, some before doors that led to other rooms and others before walls with paintings hung on them or elaborate sconces. The floor he walked along was made of wood, the walls of stone. It wasn't the modern style of wizards, or muggles even, he thought, yet he could see a royal Roman wizarding family having lived in the place long ago before the fall of Rome.

He walked down the stone steps of the enclosed staircase and the down the hall. He passed yet another open archway with drapes of white that sparkled with gold from the sunlight. He felt positively regal.

He could hear voices now, just beyond the ajar door before him on the other side of the wall. "_Draco will join us when he's rested enough. Do not go and bother him_." He heard Severus' warning tone. _Who could he be talking to,_ he thought. "_He's been sleep a long time, nearly an entire day_," the next voice was young, much younger than Severus and Draco wondered who the girl could be and why she was there. "_Yes. Well, you would be too if you'd shared in his experiences,_" was Severus' reply. "_Yeah, but you didn't sleep nearly as long. I have the sinking suspicion that you'd been up most of the night_."

He heard a laugh after that and wrinkled his brow in confusion. _Severus doesn't laugh._ "_I've become quite predictable, have I not?_" Draco didn't know what to think about this. Severus sounded happy. Happier than he should have been after having killed Headmaster Dumbledore only over a week ago.

"_Daddy--_" He didn't hear anything after that; his whole attention was focused on the single word, _daddy_. _Severus didn't have a kid, he_couldn't_ have kids_, was the selfish and possessive thought that immediately ran through his head. Severus was his Godfather, the snarky, evil, and cruel potions professor, the bane of Potter's existence next to himself (and the Dark Lord of course), not the "daddy" of some little _girl_. But the word continued to stick in his brain. He didn't notice the portrait lean over to it's neighbor and begin to whisper about him, he didn't hear the footsteps approaching from behind and didn't notice the hand the reached out for him until it was too late.

"What are you doing?"

Draco jumped, sucking in a breath so quickly that he chocked on the air. "Who the bloody hell are you?" He demanded after regaining his composure. His heart sped up, the blood rushing past his ear, as he "glared" at the girl. She pulled her hand back, one black eyebrow arched over eyes a colour he'd never seen before. She was standing so close to him that he could see specks of brown and red in her hazel-green eyes. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a tight pony tail; her skin was dark - not as dark as Blaise Zabini's nor as light as Potter's. He'd guss it was closer to the Patil twins skin tone but more bronze than olive. He thought it safe to say he'd never seen anyone like her.

"Genna." It was the only thing she said before brushing past him through the door.

Draco quickly turned tail and followed. He was fighting down a blush as he watched her from behind. _What is she wearing!_ Thought Draco, scandalized at the very sight. She had on shorts and a top that showed more skin than he thought a girl should. _Muggle clothing. Perhaps she's a muggle. No, she wouldn't be here with Severus; in a wizard's house._ He was baffled at her appearance, and though she wasn't as thin as some girls he'd seen around Hogwarts, she wasn't unsightly flabby like Miliscent Bulstrode either. And none of his observations explained why he felt she was attractive.

"Dad, Draco's up." Genna announced unnecessarily. Severus had watched them enter the room.

Daco stopped, feeling out of depth with his surroundings. The courtyard and the bedroom was something out of the past; yet this room - a great room open from the family room to the dinning room to the kitchen - was so full of things he barely recognized. What gave him pause even more where the people present and the fact that Severus seemed completely at ease in their current surroundings.

"Where are we?" He mentally cringed at the airy tone of his voice, but it couldn't be helped. He felt a bit light headed now.

Severus looked concerned. "Draco?"

The girl turned back to look at him again with something almost akin to worry on her face. "Motlove and Wednesday said he'd spaced out like that before the door," Genna informed her father. Draco ignored that for now, not understanding whom she was speaking of.

"They called you dad?" He wasn't sure if he was asking or stating a fact. "And it's just that I _know_ you don't have any children. And this room is just so foreign, so. . . _muggle_," a look crossed his face as though saying the word "muggle" caused him pain. "What's going on, Severus? Where are we? Who are they?"

"Draco," Severus started as he stood, making his way towards the blond boy. "Sit down before you fall down." He had a stern look on his face, not happy at all it appeared. "You no doubt understand the meaning behind calling one "dad", but so that there lies no misunderstanding between us, these are my children--"

"You never told me you had children!" He was angry now, fighting off the hand Severus had placed on his shoulder to steady him. "As your godson I think I had the right to know."

"Not before you could be trusted with the knowledge, Draco. If you remember, not so long ago you were more than willing to follow your father no matter what." Severus snarled. "Now, if you'll let me continue. . ." He eyed Draco for a moment, sure that the boy wouldn't interrupt again. "You've met Genna, the oldest. Playing rather loudly on the couch are the twins, Marcus and Christopher. They are close to your age. Sean is outside, and sitting at the dinning table is Alice, the youngest. You'll appreciate her company more than the others."

Draco arched a delicate blonde eyebrow at that. He couldn't imagine enjoying the company of such a young girl. Yet through the curse of his stay at the villa he learned to enjoy spending time with Alice, coming to see her as the little sibling he never had - and on the bad days, never wanted. Later that first day Draco was introduced to the rest of Snape's family; he had two nephews that were staying with them and three brothers that were never around. He continued to find himself amazed that the snarky professor had a family other than himself and now thought he could understand what the potions master was fighting for.

--oOo--

Draco looked up at the knock on the door, determined to be on his best behavior. No matter what, he would continue to fight for his family as well. Even if that meant being locked in Potter's attic with the Weasleys and a werewolf floors below.

* * *

**A/N:** My use of the term "villa" may be incorrect. I think both versions of Draco was rather in character given the situation. _I think_.


End file.
